


Rearrange

by bluejbird



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Post-Star Trek Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejbird/pseuds/bluejbird
Summary: There's no denying the way Jim looks at Spock, hungry and wanting. So the logical solution- to quote their favourite Vulcan- is to invite Spock to share their bed. But of course, Leonard's feelings don't end up being very logical at all. Or, the one where Bones just wants to make Jim happy, even if it means making himself miserable.





	

After seven years, Leonard sometimes feels like he can almost read Jim’s mind. He’s in tune with the subtle expressions that cross Jim’s face that no one else can detect. Intentional or not, he’s hyper focused on what pulls Jim’s attention and what doesn’t. 

So he’s known for awhile that Jim is attracted to Spock. To borrow a word from the Vulcan himself, Jim clearly finds Spock  _ fascinating _ . His eyes track Spock’s movements. His brow furrows when Spock is unexpectedly absent. The first person Jim looks for when he steps into a room is still Leonard, but as soon as Jim has assured that his CMO is present, his gaze roams until he finds his first officer. And it’s only then that the set of his shoulders truly relaxes. 

To say it makes Leonard jealous would be an understatement. But that’s his issue, not Jim’s, and so he never voices it. He’s careful not to let the jealousy show, and he hides it underneath the grumpy bluster and mild insults he levels at Spock. He’s sure Jim knows that he doesn’t mean most of what he says – and Jim’s fond smirk whenever Leonard and Spock banter at each other seems to verify that – but he’s also sure that Jim doesn’t know the extent of his jealousy either. 

So when Jim’s eyes trace the lines of Spock’s body, Leonard says nothing. When Jim twitches in his sleep and moans something that doesn’t sound like ‘Bones’, Leonard says nothing. And when Jim looks at Spock and says, “What would I do without you?”, Leonard says nothing. And every time that it happens and his heart cracks a microscopic amount, Leonard says nothing.

At Jim’s birthday party, Leonard does the watching. He smiles and laughs in all the right places, mingling in just the way he should. He enjoys the fact that Jim flits from crew member to crew member, enjoying himself and sharing the celebration with his family. He loves seeing Jim happy, and he’ll do anything to make that happiness stick. 

Part way through the party, Spock sidles up to him. He’s carrying two glasses and offers one to Leonard without a word. 

“Thanks,’ Leonard says, taking the glass gratefully. His fingertips brush Spock’s, and when his eyes meet the Vulcan’s, there’s a warmth there. 

“I must again express my gratitude–” Spock begins, but Leonard waves him off, and pulls a sip of bourbon through his teeth. Spock mirrors him, sipping on his glass of water. 

“You’ve gotta stop thanking me, Spock,” Leonard says. “All I did was my job.” 

“Then I am thankful that you are our CMO,” Spock says. “I trust that you plan to continue with the mission, once the new ship is ready?”

Leonard laughs, flicking his eyes across the room to Jim, then back to Spock. “Do you really think Jim would let me quit? Honestly, it never even crossed my mind that leaving the Enterprise was an option.”

An expression flits across Spock’s face for a brief moment, then is gone. Leonard has long given up on trying to read Spock’s emotions, but he’s still curious in moments like this when emotions seem to breach the surface before disappearing back into the depths. 

“I find that pleasing to hear,” Spock says. His hand moves to grasp Leonard’s shoulder. 

Two layers of clothing sit between them, but Leonard imagines he can feel the heat of Spock’s touch, and finds himself leaning into the pressure for a moment. 

Their relationship has been, for the longest time, one of grudging respect, brought on largely by the fact that Jim clearly relies on them both. They are tethered together through their captain, through their positions on board the ship that meant regular meetings as heads of their respective departments, and through a shared experience of adventure and tragedy. 

Leonard would never have called them friends, exactly. But after years in space, there was something between them that was perhaps the beginnings of friendship. If pushed, Leonard would admit he even liked the Vulcan. He wonders if Spock would say the same about him. 

In the short moment that Spock’s hand rests on him, he remembers the worry that had wracked his mind when he thought maybe he wasn’t going to be able to save him on Altamid. He’d worried for Spock, and he’d worried how Jim would take the loss. And strangely, curling underneath it all, he’d worried for himself. It revealed feelings that he’d never let fully surface – caring for Spock more deeply than he’d ever been able to admit to himself. And, perhaps, mixed somewhere in there, a tug of attraction too. 

The attraction is definitely there now, pooling low in his belly. Feelings like that are normally tied to proximity with Jim, and Leonard automatically casts his eyes around the room, seeking him out in the crowd. When his gaze finally lands on its target, Leonard is surprised by the look on Jim's face. 

His eyes are fixed on Spock, or more specifically on Spock’s hand on Leonard’s shoulder. Part of Jim’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth, as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't. And the look in his eyes is almost feral with want. 

Then Jim’s gaze shifts to Leonard’s face, and suddenly his diplomatic expression, carefully easy and neutral slides into place, smile stretching his mouth as he turns towards Pavel and says something that makes the young ensign laugh. 

Leonard looks up at Spock’s face, which is as carefully blank as Jim’s. 

“Thanks, Spock,” Leonard says, and Spock inclines his head slightly, announces he must go and speak with Mr Scott, and leaves. 

Leonard misses the touch of Spock’s hand immediately, and finishes his drink quicker than he should. An hour later, having spent an appropriate amount of time at the party, he slips away to his temporary quarters. 

Jim shows up not long after. Leonard is already in bed, but awake and staring at the wall. He’s been thinking more than he’d like, running scenarios in his head like he’s trying to discover a cure for a disease he doesn’t fully understand yet. Which is a disturbingly frequent occurrence out here in space.

He hears Jim toe off his boots, hears zippers being opened and the soft hush of fabric falling to the floor. 

“Thanks for the party, Bones,” Jim says, sliding into bed behind him. His body is warm, like a furnace, and Leonard slides back easily to fit against him. 

Jim’s mouth presses against Leonard’s neck, and he groans, trying to turn over to face him. But Jim’s hand slides down Leonard’s chest, holding him in place.

“It felt good to be with everyone,” Jim murmurs, his hand sliding lower and lower, making Leonard’s breath catch in his throat as his fingers brush over a nipple. The butterfly-light touch moves to tickle over his navel, then swirl in the hair that arrows down towards Leonard’s groin. “It felt good to be able to smile and laugh again.”

There are so many words left unspoken. Leonard recognises the sadness and loss in Jim’s voice and knows he’s thinking of everyone who hadn’t made it to Yorktown. He presses himself back against Jim, offering what steady reassurance he can. The pressure of Jim’s hand increases slightly, and Leonard thinks about how he loves this side of Jim – the side that feels so keenly that it aches, but that also behind the ache there’s a strong determination to carry on. 

“I’m glad you had fun,” Leonard gasps out as Jim’s fingertips glide along his waistband teasingly. 

“I’m lucky,” Jim says, carefully easing the waistband over one hip then splaying his fingers out over the newly bared skin. “I’m lucky to captain an amazing crew.”

His hand nudges at Leonard’s hip, and Leonard takes the hint, lifting himself up to slide his pants down and away. He kicks them off, settling back against Jim, shivering as Jim’s hand slides down and wraps around his already half-hard cock. 

“Jim,” Leonard hisses out, as Jim’s thumb rubs across the head, making his whole body twitch. The next stroke of Jim’s thumb down his length is slick and torturously slow. 

“I’m lucky to have you,” Jim says, engulfing Leonard with strong, sure fingers that pull slowly downwards. Leonard’s hips snap forwards as Jim presses a kiss to his shoulder, in the same spot Spock’s hand had been earlier. He feels the hard press of Jim’s teeth digging in and some suction from his mouth, and he knows he’ll have a bruise there to heal in the morning. 

Jim’s hand slips away from Leonard’s cock. 

“Jim,” Leonard whines out in protest, and Jim’s teeth dig harder into his shoulder. Jim’s hand slides across Leonard’s hip, then down between them. His palm cups Leonard’s ass for a moment, then his fingers go exploring. 

“Bones!” Jim’s voice is a mixture of excitement and scandal, as his fingers encounter slipperiness. 

Leonard turns enough to see Jim’s face in the half-light of the room. He tries and fails to keep the pleased smirk off his face. He enjoys surprising Jim, after all this time together. “I thought it’d be a good idea to be prepared,” he says, and Jim’s answering grin makes Leonard’s heart ache. 

“I’m really, really lucky,” Jim says. He lines himself up and eases inside Leonard, slowly and torturously. It draws a moan from Leonard’s throat, and as if in answer, Jim slips his hand back around, grasping Leonard’s cock again. 

Lying on their sides like this, their movements are slow, Jim’s cock sliding in and out of Leonard with practiced ease. Jim’s hand moves around Leonard’s cock at the same pace. There’s something luxurious about being able to take their time. No rush of desperation to finish before a red alert sounds through the ship. No hasty coupling without fully removing clothing because they’re on different shifts, grasping whatever moments together they can. 

Jim’s grip tightens and his teeth scrape against Leonard’s shoulder again and there’s almost too much sensation for Leonard to focus on. It feels glorious and perfect and the sound of Jim murmuring his name makes it even better. 

“God, Bones,” Jim says, mouth against Leonard’s shoulder again, cock buried as deep as he can go. “What would I do without you?”

A rough patch on Jim’s palm catches on a sensitive part of Leonard’s cock, and Leonard comes undone. His hips snap, and he clenches around Jim as he comes, gasping wordlessly as pleasure rolls through his body. Jim’s hand scrambles to grab at his hip, fingers digging in painfully as he thrusts in harder and faster, like he’d been restraining himself and now he's unleashed.  

When Jim comes, he groans out Leonard’s name, holding their bodies together tightly. Leonard loves the sounds Jim makes when he’s coming down, his breathing starting to slow. 

When Jim pulls away, Leonard wriggles around until they’re face to face. Jim looks even more pleased with himself than usual, and Leonard leans in and kisses him. 

They kiss lazily for a moment, and Leonard thinks that he’s the lucky one. 

“Bones, I-” Jim starts, pressing his forehead to Leonard’s. “I’m happy.”

Leonard smiles as he kisses Jim again. “I’m glad,” he says. In his head he adds the thing they never say to each other. ‘I love you’. It’s been seven years, and Leonard can’t remember when he first thought those words. He remembers the first time he waited for Jim to say it, and how those words never came. He remembers the first time he truly came to terms with the fact that he’d never hear it, and when he decided he’d never risk saying it out loud. 

Hearing Jim say that he’s happy is almost as good. It’s not something Jim admits very often, and Leonard knows he’d do anything to keep Jim feeling that way. 

That night, when Jim is asleep and softly snoring, he makes a list in his head of all of the things he knows make Jim happy. There are more things than he thinks Jim realises, but the list is still woefully short. But there are a small handful of items on his list that make him ponder. Combined with his thoughts from earlier in the day, a plan begins to form. 

~~~ 

A week or so passes before he says anything, but they have time. It’ll be months before the new ship is ready, and the whole of the crew have found assignments to keep them busy. Leonard has taken on shifts at one of the hospitals, but it’s relatively quiet compared to a starship lead by a sometimes reckless captain and a crew who seem to think they’re invincible. It gives him plenty of time to think. 

How to broach the subject is his first difficulty, but in the end Jim makes it easy for him. 

“Do you think Spock is lonely?” Jim asks one day while they’re eating dinner. 

Leonard puts down his fork and regards Jim for a moment. “Why would you ask that?”

Jim shrugs. “I saw Uhura today. She seems happy being single.” He’s focused on his food, and because Leonard can be a cruel bastard sometimes, he waits until Jim takes a mouthful of water before he responds. 

“I think we should invite Spock to join us. In bed,” he adds, in case his meaning is unclear. 

Jim chokes a little as he swallows, eyes going wide. 

“What?” he demands, coughing into his fist. 

“You heard me,” Leonard says, leaning back in his chair. He tries to project an air of calm confidence, but inside his stomach churns. He’s ready to jump up and whack Jim on the back to clear his airway if needed. And he’s equally as ready to make an excuse to leave if Jim doesn’t react the way Leonard predicts he will.

Jim stops coughing and gives Leonard a perplexed look. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Leonard shrugs. “I was thinking that I hadn’t got you a birthday present.”

Jim’s eyebrows shoot up. “And you think that’s what I want for my birthday?” Before Leonard can reply, he continues. “Besides, you threw me a party. That’s more than enough.”

“Are you saying it isn’t what you want?” Leonard throws back. He feels like he’s in a weird sort of limbo, waiting for Jim to answer. Whatever Jim says will change things between them, and Leonard isn’t sure how he wants Jim to reply. 

“Is it Andorian measles, or Tellarian mumps that make people start spouting crazy things?” Jim asks, stalling for time. It’s a distraction Leonard has seen him use with enemy commanders, Starfleet admirals, senior crew members, and even with his mother. “Maybe you should get tested for both.”

Leonard sighs, picking up his cutlery and starting to eat again. “It’s neither,” he says, “and I’m not crazy. And you’re avoiding the question.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” Jim gives Leonard a careful look, then follows his lead and starts eating again. “What do you want me to say?”

“I wouldn’t make the suggestion if I wasn’t serious,” Leonard replies. “So I want you to answer with the truth.”

He watches Jim shovel food in his mouth for a few moments. A buzz of impatience runs through him and he fights down the urge to snap at Jim to hurry up, which won’t help. This was not how things had gone in his head when he’d imagined having this conversation. 

“Look, Jim,” Leonard says eventually to break the silence. He pushes away his plate, appetite gone. “I see the way you look at Spock. I hear the way you talk about him. You can’t deny that you find him attractive.”

He hears Jim’s audible swallow, and pushes on. “I see the way he looks at you too. There’s been something there between you, ever since Ambassador Spock showed up–”

“Nothing’s happened between us,” Jim says quickly, and Leonard huffs out a chuckle. It’s good that Jim wants to assure him that nothing untoward has happened, but at the same time the denial comes a bit too quickly for his liking.

“I know,” he says. “But you’ve thought about it. I know you have. And...maybe I’ve thought about it too.”

Jim’s expression is guarded and wary. “So this is a genuine offer?”

Leonard nods, watching Jim’s expression slowly change. He can see a smile forming at the corners of Jim’s mouth, excited. He can tell Jim’s fighting it. 

“You want to say yes,” he says, and Jim hesitates, then nods. “Then say it.”

“Yes,” Jim says, after a moment. He’s a damn fine actor – all of the wanting and excitement at the idea is bubbling away beneath the surface and yet anyone who doesn’t know him well wouldn’t be able to tell. “Yes, I want that. But...what will it mean for…” he trails off, waving his hand between them. 

Leonard shrugs, holding the smile on his face until it’s almost painful. “I don’t know. But I think we should ask Spock and then...see what happens.”

They finish their meal, talking about when and how to ask Spock. And that night, if Leonard fucks Jim a little harder than usual, if he bruises Jim’s hips a bit darker than usual, neither he nor Jim say a word. 

~~~ 

It turns out that the easiest thing about having a threesome with Spock is asking Spock to take part. 

He regards them both for a long moment. Jim’s hands are clenched behind his back, jaw set. Leonard knows he’s preparing himself for rejection, ensuring that his facial expression remains as unchanged as possible to reduce the risk of anyone seeing how it will hurt. But Leonard doesn’t think Jim has anything to worry about. He’s noticed the way Spock looks at Jim too, and how they interact. He might not be able to read Spock at all, let alone as well as he can read Jim, but he’s not blind. Leonard feels confident that Spock wants Jim just as much. The only questionable factor is whether Spock is willing to go through Leonard to get to Jim. 

Leonard bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, trying to decipher whether his feelings are nervousness, excitement, or something more akin to lust. He tries not to think about what would happen if Spock rejects the idea of his involvement, but requests to pursue Jim alone. He definitely doesn’t think about how quickly Jim would agree. 

“I find this offer to be acceptable,” Spock says eventually.

Leonard feels the tension leave Jim immediately, and only realises how loud his sigh of relief is when Jim glances at him. The guarded look is still on Jim’s face, and his hand brushes against the back of Leonard’s as he moves forward.

“That’s great, Spock,” Jim says, sinking down into one of the chairs in Spock’s quarters. Leonard copies Jim, looking up at Spock who stays standing. 

“May I enquire as to the parameters of the offer?” Spock asks, then seeing Leonard’s confused look, adds, “Is this to be a single occurrence, or the beginnings of an ongoing liaison?”

Leonard and Jim exchange a look. “We don’t know,” Jim says. “We thought we’d just, uh, play it by ear.”

“Very well,” Spock says. “Is now a suitable time, or do you wish to reconvene elsewhere?”

Leonard laughs and nudges Jim. “I feel like our Vulcan friend has maybe thought about this before.”

He means it as a teasing joke, to lighten the atmosphere, but Spock’s cheeks colour, flushing olive. It surprises Leonard for a moment, until he notices the heat in Spock’s eyes as his gaze settles on Jim. Of course Spock has thought of this before, just like Jim’s thought of Spock. He wonders how much they’ll have to veer away from Spock and Jim’s plans to fit him into their fantasies.

“Your assumption is not incorrect, doctor,” Spock says. His voice has deepened and something low inside Leonard tenses at the sound.  

Leonard rolls his eyes. “This is probably one situation where you can call me Leonard,” he says, snappish enough that it’s almost like their usual banter. Spock’s mouth opens to give an answering retort, but then Jim is up, out of his seat. He strides to Spock, slides his fingers into Spock’s sleek dark hair, and kisses him. 

Emotions explode inside Leonard. There’s the familiar jealousy, like a low hum beneath everything else, but there’s satisfaction too at finally witnessing something he knows both of them wanted. And beneath it all is his own lust, his own want, his own need. 

They look right together. Both of them are individually handsome men, and together they are beautiful. From where Leonard stands he can see the way their lips fit together as if they were always meant to. Spock’s hands rest lightly on Jim’s hips, holding him in place, and both of Jim’s hands are buried in Spock’s hair, as if he’s worried Spock will pull away. 

Watching them makes Leonard’s heart clench, and he can’t tell whether it’s from joy or from agony. His stomach churns with anticipation, sending sparks along his limbs and making his hands curl into fists. He wants to touch them both, but there’s a voice at the back of his head telling him he’s intruding, that his touch would be unwelcome. And so he stays away, watching and trying to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Jim,” Spock says, low and raspy, and Leonard has never heard Spock sound that way before. But the smile Jim gives Spock is achingly familiar. It’s a smile that until now has been solely reserved for Leonard. 

It occurs to him, belatedly, that this may not have been his best idea, for his own interests at least. He’d wanted to make Jim happy, wanted to give him what he wanted. And he’d told himself that whatever the outcome, he’d be happy with it too.

He hadn’t meant to completely lie to himself. Mostly it’s still true. If Jim chose to be with Spock, and Spock alone, then Leonard would shake Spock’s hand and congratulate him. He’d stand beside them both as he’d always done. He’d make sure they never knew the pain it caused him. 

But it wouldn’t make him happy. 

But Leonard has never really done anything for his own happiness. His life until now has been a chain of events of making other people happy, or actively denying himself happiness. When he has felt such emotions, it’s always been more of a side effect than a general purpose. 

He stands up on unsteady feet. If he’s not going to be happy, he thinks he might as well take some good memories with him. And there are things he’d like to see Jim do, expressions he’d like to see, before it’s over. 

Leonard walks towards them carefully, stopping an arms length away. They both turn at his presence, still clinging to each other. Leonard wishes desperately that one of them would reach for him, but when neither of them do he takes charge, pushing on Jim’s chest until he’s backed up against the closest wall. 

“Spock,” he says, and Spock obediently complies, moving to stand beside him. 

Leonard puts his hands on Spock’s shoulders, pushing enough for Spock to get the hint. The Vulcan sinks to his knees, and looks up at Jim. 

“God, Spock,” Jim says. “Bones.”

Leonard crowds close to Jim and kisses him. He almost expects him to taste different now, after having kissed Spock. He expects it to taste bittersweet, like all things that break his heart do, but it’s surprisingly the same. 

Jim’s hands clench on Leonard’s biceps as he undoes the button of Jim’s pants. He hooks his thumbs into the layers of clothing until he’s against bare skin, then eases them down. A hand brushes against his, and Leonard looks down to see Spock helping. 

Jim is talking, babbling more to himself than anyone else about how hot this is, how much he wants it, how good it’s going to be, but Leonard tunes him out and focuses on Spock. Spock is looking at him, as if waiting on instructions, and Leonard reaches out, running his thumb along Spock’s bottom lip. 

Spock’s mouth falls open and Leonard kneels down beside him. He could lean in and kiss Spock, if he wanted. And he does, desperately so. He wonders if Spock wants to kiss him too. But Jim is hard and leaking and he wants to see Spock taste him. 

So instead, he cups the back of Spock’s head and nudges him forwards, holding Jim’s cock in his other hand and feeding it into Spock’s mouth. 

Spock holds Leonard’s gaze for a moment, then his eyelids flutter shut, dark lashes stark against pale cheeks that hollow as he takes Jim in further. 

Jim’s fingers scrabble at the wall and Leonard reaches up, pushing at Jim’s shirt to bare his stomach too, fingers splayed to hold Jim in place and prevent him from bucking forward too much. 

Spock appears to be well versed in cock sucking, which surprises Leonard. It seems to surprise Jim too, if the stream of words coming from Jim’s mouth – “Fuck, Spock, never thought you’d be so...where did you learn that...oh god, yes” – is anything to go by. 

Spock wraps one hand around the base of Jim’s cock as he pulls back to lick along Jim’s length. Jim shudders, and Leonard remembers reading once that a Vulcan tongue was rougher than a human’s – a trait lending credence to the theory of their feline evolution. He wonders what it would feel like to have it scrape against his own tongue and lips, perhaps across his body, to rasp along the underside of his own cock. He presses the heel of his hand over his growing erection, and feels a pang of regret that he’ll never get to know. 

It’s then that he realises that he’s already convinced himself that this is it. His one and only moment with Spock. His last moment with Jim. It’s a wave of sadness that hits him unexpectedly, and he pushes it down. Instead he slides his hand from the back of Spock’s head just enough that he can run his thumb along Spock’s ear to the pointed tip. He’s been fascinated by these ears since they’d first met, and he’s wanted to do this for a long time, curious if they were as much an erogenous zone as they were for many other species. Leonard expects Spock to enjoy the touch. 

Instead, Spock stills for a moment, pulling away from Jim to look at him. Jim makes a protesting noise and stares down at them, seeming confused. Leonard bites his lip, thinking he must have been mistaken in his assumption about Vulcan ears. 

Spock looks troubled, and Leonard lets his fingers slide hastily away from his ear and across the angle of his jaw again. He wishes he had something to say to wipe that look off Spock’s face. 

“I want to see you fuck him.” The words rasp out of Leonard’s throat before he can stop and think about them. He means it. He desperately wants to see it, to see what Jim looks like keening and arching into the thrusts. He’s only ever seen that up close, and as beautiful as that is, he’s curious to see the entirety of Jim like that. 

Spock and Jim groan in harmony with each other, and Leonard takes that as agreement. He climbs to his feet and yanks Jim away from the wall, kissing him hard and hungry. The head of Jim’s cock grazes the front of his shirt, drawing a wet line there, and Leonard resists the urge to wrap his hand around it, feeling the perfect familiar fit of it against his palm. Instead, he hustles Jim towards Spock’s bed, helping him to shuck his clothes as he goes. Glancing over his shoulder, Leonard notes that Spock is undressing himself. He takes a moment to appreciate the view, to let his eyes travel over the taut muscles, the pale skin and dark hair. 

Spock’s cock is hard, but there’s a calmness to his posture that Leonard admires. His own erection is straining against the confines of his pants distractingly, and Jim is clearly desperate to be fucked or at least touched, judging by the impatient noises coming from the direction of the bed. 

Leonard ignores Jim for a moment longer, wondering what it would be like to press himself against Spock, to grind up against him and feel the hardness of Spock’s cock against his own. To feel the strong arms wrap around him, holding them close together. He wonders just how strong Spock is. He’s seen Spock lift things it would take several humans to hold. It makes Leonard consider whether he could wrap his legs around Spock’s waist, his cock buried deep inside Leonard, and let Spock take all of his weight while they fucked. The thought makes his eyelids flutter closed for a moment, and his fingers move to the fastenings of his pants, ready to undo them. 

“Are we doing this or what?” Jim demands, impatient as always in bed. Even after all these years he hasn’t managed to break Jim of his need for instant gratification in bed. Jim’s the kind of lover who will do everything he can to get you off, for as long as it takes. But when it comes to his own orgasms he’s urgent and needy and demanding. For years Leonard has teased him, dragging it out, making Jim beg.

Leonard lets his hand fall.

“Dammit Jim,” he says, rolling his eyes at Jim who grins back. He’s propped himself up on Spock’s pillows, legs spread to announce he’s ready and waiting. “Have some goddamn patience for once.”

“If you had my view, you’d be impatient too,” Jim points out. “Don’t you want to get a bit more comfortable?”

Leonard hesitates. He certainly feels overdressed, with his casual clothing on while the other two are stark naked. It would be easiest to undress quickly. He’s not shy about his body – he might not be as handsome as Jim or Spock, but he’s pretty happy in his own skin. Now though, his clothes are a protective barrier, preventing him from doing something he regrets, like throwing himself in without a worry of what will happen afterwards. Somehow, it feels like staying clothed for now will minimise the hurt of rejection later. 

“Do you want to talk about my clothes, or do you want me to open you up so Spock can fuck you?”

Jim stares at Leonard for a long moment before replying. “The second one,” he says quickly, his pupils wide and blown in arousal. “Definitely the second.”

“Perhaps you will find this useful, Doctor,” Spock says, fetching a small tube from his bedside table. It’s a lubricant of some sort, and Leonard wants to ask Spock why he has it, who he’s used it with, whether he’d known what Jim and Leonard were going to ask him. Instead he notes that Spock looks almost amused. 

“Thank you, Commander,” Leonard says drily, noting that Jim is practically writhing on the bed. He files the questions away for later, if the opportunity to ask them arises, and kneels between Jim’s legs. 

“Jim will deny this,” he says to Spock, almost conspiratorially, “but he’s kind of particular about what he likes in bed, but he’s not great at articulating what he wants, either. So there can be a lot of trial and error.”

“Hey!” Jim protests. “I’m lying right here. Can you not talk about me like I’m some science project?”

Leonard ignores him. “He’s also not great at knowing his limits. So he’ll tell you he’s ready when he’s not. For example…”

Leonard lubes up his fingers. He runs them lightly down to the base of Jim’s cock, and then grazes them against his balls. Jim’s hips lift, seeking a firmer touch, and Leonard takes that as encouragement. He slides his fingers back and then, with a little coaxing, eases first one then the other inside of Jim. Spock watches him with dark eyes, studying Leonard’s movements as if he’s committing them to memory. And knowing the Vulcan, he probably is. 

“That’s enough,” Jim hisses. “Just fuck me already.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow at Spock. “See what I mean?”

“Jim,” Spock rumbles, amusement clear in his voice now, but mixed with the deeper sound of desire. “You are obviously unprepared for intercourse at this time. Were we to proceed now, I would likely injure you.”

Jim’s hips twitch up as Leonard curls his fingers inside him, just so. “I’m willing to take that risk, Spock,” he bites out. 

Leonard continues to work his fingers, opening Jim up. Whenever Jim opens his mouth to protest, he brushes his fingertips in just the right place to make Jim’s leg kick. It has the added side effect of making Spock hum curiously. 

Eventually, Jim is practically begging, his cock leaking against his stomach, and Leonard pulls back. He thinks about lubing up Spock’s cock, guiding him into Jim like he’d guided Jim into Spock’s mouth. He’s curious about how it would feel to touch Spock, how similar the skin there feels to a human. He’s curious to know whether Spock will respond to the same strokes and twists that Jim does. 

It’s tempting, but this isn’t about him. It’s about Jim, who should be the first of them to touch Spock like that. It’s not an honour that should be reserved for Leonard. 

So instead he scoots to the side and lets Spock take his place. Leonard makes himself comfortable at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall where he should be able to see everything.  

“Wait,” he says as Spock moves in.  

Jim gives him an expectant, if a little impatient look. There’s also a tiny amount of doubt, as if they’ve been asked to speak now or forever hold their peace, and Leonard is about to pour cold water over the whole thing. And it’s tempting. He wonders if they could pretend none of this had happened, that they hadn’t seen each other naked, that Spock’s tongue had never felt the warm weight of Jim’s cock. And he knows that even if he wanted to, there’s no way to stop the inevitable from happening. 

And it’s not what he wants to say.

“Roll over, Jim,” Leonard orders.

“But I want to watch this,” Jim argues. There’s an air of his command voice there. Jim likes giving the orders in all aspects of his life, and they’ve had some fun with that, over the years. But just like when they’re on duty, Leonard knows how to be the voice of reason.

“You’ll enjoy it more this way,” Leonard points out, and Spock nods in agreement, understanding instantly. 

“The curvature of my penis is more likely to make contact with your prostate if you face away from me,” Spock explains, all calm logic. It’s not how Leonard would have worded it, but it’s so like Spock that he can’t hide the amusement that pulls his lips into a smile. 

Spock’s eyes meet his own and one brow twitches minutely. 

Jim hesitates a moment, before shrugging and turning over. He pillows his face on his arms. Spock runs his hand down Jim’s back, taking in the taut muscle and skin made pale from too long in space. His hand moves lower, across Jim’s ass. Then he lines himself up and eases inside. 

As Leonard watches, Jim’s back arches, and he pushes back against Spock, deep throaty groans escaping his lips. 

After a few stuttering thrusts, they find a rhythm together. And if that’s not a damn near perfect metaphor for the entire duration of the relationship between Jim and Spock, then Leonard doesn’t know what is. 

“Harder,” Jim demands, and Spock doesn’t hesitate, just complies. Leonard opens his mouth to protest – to tell Spock to slow down, to inform him again that Jim doesn’t always understand what he needs in moments like this. He wants to remind them that they have all the time in the world now, and it makes his heart pang. There’s little point in him interfering anyway. At some point in the near future they’ll do the exact same thing, and Leonard won’t be there to mediate. Some lessons they need to learn for themselves. So he keeps his mouth shut. 

The sound of flesh hitting flesh and the sound of Jim’s moans and Spock’s panting are almost too much to bear. 

Leonard slides his hand into his pants, holding himself tightly, trying to hold back. His eyes are glued to Jim and Spock. He’s fixated on how their bodies move together perfectly, as if they were meant to be this way all along. Leonard doesn’t think he’s seen anything more erotic or more enticing in his life. He also doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a look of pure bliss on Jim’s face as Spock pounds into him. 

Jim’s skin is sheened with sweat, and Leonard imagines himself leaning in and licking at it, tasting the salt on his tongue. He imagines turning and kissing Spock, feeling Spock’s tongue fuck his mouth the way his cock is fucking Jim’s ass. He imagines Jim reaching out and palming his cock, stroking Leonard until he comes across Jim’s palm. He imagines Spock sucking Jim’s fingers into his mouth and tasting Leonard, and then wanting to taste more. Wanting him.

His imagination combined with the scene before him is enough to tip him over the edge. The corners of his vision white out as he comes, hand inside his pants like a teenager desperate to not get caught. 

When he can see straight again, he sees that neither Jim nor Spock have noticed. Spock is still busy fucking Jim into the mattress, and Jim is still pushing himself back to meet Spock, his eyes screwed shut, mouth open and panting from the exertion. 

A communicator chirps, and they all freeze. Leonard can see the muscles of Spock’s back bunch up as he tenses. Jim pulls away from Spock, starting to sit up and reach for his communicator somewhere in his discarded pile of clothes.  

There’s a tension in the room that wasn’t there before. A fear maybe, that something’s gone wrong, even though they’re presumably much safer here than they were on the ship. Leonard is sure Spock could tell him the exact risk of danger, but he can’t bring himself to ask. It makes Leonard wonder if they both feel like he does most of the time, like the only news they ever receive anymore is the bad kind. 

“I’ll check,” he says quickly, reaching for his own communicator, still in his pocket. 

There’s a message there from M’Benga, completely non urgent. But it’s a good excuse. He’d been falling into the fairytale belief that he’d belonged, that this was something he should be witnessing. With the spell broken, seeing Jim and Spock still joined together makes him feel uncomfortable, like an intruder who has seen something not meant for them. And he needs to get away. 

“It’s mine,” Leonard says. “They need me at the hospital ASAP.” The lie comes easier than it should. 

Jim’s answering groan is one of disappointment, and Leonard appreciates that, love for Jim flaring in his chest bright and sharp.

“Do you have to go, Bones?” Jim asks. “Things were starting to get good.”

“Well there’s no reason for it not to continue,” Leonard says. “Don’t let me spoil the fun.” He keeps his voice light, and maybe it’s what Jim wants to hear, or maybe Jim’s distracted enough from having been fucked hard and good, but he only holds Leonard’s gaze for a moment before nodding. 

“Come back as soon as you can,” he says, and Leonard leans down to pull Jim’s chin towards him for a kiss. 

His kiss is hard and possessive, like he’s trying to remind Jim who he is, what he means to him. He kisses Jim in a way that he hopes tells Jim how much he’s enjoyed loving him for all these years. How he wants Jim to be happy, and if that’s with Spock, then so be it. 

“Have fun,” he says when he pulls away, and Jim gives him a lazy, half lidded smile. 

Leonard climbs off the bed and straightens his clothing, trying to ignore the sensation of his own come drying against his skin, sticking the fabric of his briefs to his hip. 

Spock and Jim both watch him, still unmoving. As if they’re waiting for him to leave before they can really enjoy themselves.  

Leonard doesn’t know why, but he only makes it three steps towards the door before he strides back to the bed. He stops in front of Spock. He’s given Spock so much in the past hour that he thinks it’s only fair that he can take something too.  

Spock’s expression is thoughtful as Leonard leans down and kisses him. 

In the four years he’s known Spock, Leonard can probably count the number of times they’ve touched each other on his fingers. Every time, save for today and occasional accidental brushes of fingers or reassuring hands on shoulders, had been for medical or emergency reasons. 

Spock’s skin is hot to the touch, warmer than a human’s. It makes Leonard’s lips burn pleasantly as they kiss, and when his tongue slips inside Spock’s mouth, it feels engulfed in warmth. He wishes he could have felt Spock’s mouth on other parts of his body. He wants it almost painfully, needs it too. And if he can’t have it, he at least wants this memory of what it’s like to kiss Spock. Leonard hopes his imagination will be up to the task of filling in the gaps. 

His fingers ghost along Spock’s ears again – he doesn’t know why he has such a fascination with them. This time Spock moans in the way Leonard had hoped he would before, muffled by the way his tongue slides rough against the roof of Leonard’s mouth. 

“Pointy-eared hobgoblin,” he says to break the moment, when he pulls away. “Don’t ride him too hard. You have no idea how difficult it is to explain those sort of things in a report if I have to patch him up afterwards.”

And then he hurries from the room before either of them can say anything. 

Leonard walks back to his quarters. He washes as quickly as possible, but sonic showers never leave him feeling quite clean enough. He screws up his eyes in the shower, trying not to think about what Jim and Spock are doing, and trying, for now, not to remember what they’d already done. His cock doesn’t seem to respect his wishes though, and he ends up with his forehead pressed against the cold metal of the shower, stroking himself frantically and biting his lip to prevent either name from tumbling from his lips. 

Later, when he’s dressed in his hospital uniform, he heads to the hospital in case either of them try to check up on his excuse to leave, and also because it’s a good distraction. M’Benga is surprised to see him, but his presence isn’t unwelcome and the case he’s been called to consult on turns out to be an interesting one. 

~~~ 

It’s late when Leonard hears the door chime. He stays in bed, and listens to it chime again. A moment later, the door slides open and he hears footsteps. 

“Bones?”

If he were a braver man, Leonard would roll over and have the conversation he’s dreading. He’d lay things out for Jim and make it easy for him. There would be no tears or anger, and he’d push down his pain, and deal with it alone when Jim had finally gone. But despite everything he’s faced during his time in Starfleet, deep down he’s still a coward. So he keeps his breathing even, pretends to be asleep. 

The mattress dips as Jim sits down, and then slips beneath the covers. His feet are cold when they press against Leonard’s calves, and it takes everything in him not to snap out a “Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a heater” and give away that he’s not really asleep. 

Jim wriggles around until he’s comfortable, close up beside him, his arm across Leonard’s waist. 

“I wish you could have stayed,” Jim says quietly. “It was incredible. It was better than I’d imagined. Spock is...well. You saw him. This was maybe the best idea you’ve ever had, Bones.”

Leonard thinks maybe Jim is right, and it just goes to show that what’s good for many isn’t necessarily good for the individual. Jim’s hand rubs slow circles across his belly and Leonard is careful not to let his breath hitch. 

It’s only when he hears Jim’s breathing change and his arm becomes heavy with sleep, that he places his hand over Jim’s. He laces their fingers together and moves it up until it’s sitting over his heart. 

“I love you,” he whispers into the darkness, saying it out loud in Jim’s presence for the first and last time. It’s almost a relief to finally say it. Then he lets himself drift off to sleep too.  

In the morning, Jim doesn’t wake up until Leonard is getting dressed. He’d slipped out of Jim’s embrace as soon as the fake dawn had begun to peek in through the blinds. He’d spent longer than he’d care to admit watching Jim sleep, enjoying the peacefully happy look on his face. It’s made Leonard think that he’s doing the right thing by backing off. That if Jim does feel any regret or sadness, it’ll be tempered by the joy he’s obviously feeling. 

“Spock and I have the day off,” Jim says, resting his chin on a pillow as he watches Leonard pull on his uniform shirt. His hair is mussed and ridiculous, and Leonard thinks Jim has never looked so good. 

“I have to work,” Leonard says with an apologetic shrug. “There’s an outbreak on Valaxus VI and I promised M’Benga I’d help out. It’s going to be like this for a few weeks – early mornings and late nights and not a lot of time in between.”

The outbreak story is true, although it’s not exactly a life-threatening condition and M’Benga had said he understood if Leonard was too busy to help. But Jim doesn’t know that, and unless Spock starts poking around he’ll never find out, so it’s a good enough lie. 

Jim frowns. “Oh,” he says, brow furrowing. “I thought we could continue from yesterday…”

“You want to continue this...thing with Spock then,” Leonard says. He bends down to tie his bootlaces as he says it, purposely hiding his face until he can school it into casual blandness. “Yesterday you weren’t so sure.”

Jim sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist. His chest is bare, and it’s tempting to kick his boots back off and dive into bed with him one last time. Leonard manages to resist. 

“Well, yeah,” Jim says. “I don’t think I’d be happy with it being a one-time thing. I don’t think Spock would either. And I just assumed that you–”

“I’m glad it makes you happy,” Leonard says, looking up and meeting Jim’s eyes. He genuinely means it, and that must show on his face because he can see the muscles in Jim’s shoulders relax. 

“We’ll wait for you to finish your work though,” Jim says. He even starts to reach for his communicator, presumably to cancel the plans with Spock, but Leonard shakes his head. 

“The next couple of weeks are gonna be busier than a stump-tailed cow in fly time. I’ll barely have time to sleep, let alone anything else. So the two of you should carry on.”

“Without you?” Jim frowns. “That’s not what–”

“It’s  _ fine _ , Jim,” Leonard says. “Really. Go and have fun. It’ll be good for you to have something to do while I’m working anyway.”

Jim doesn’t look convinced, but nods and calls out goodbye as Leonard slips from his room. It’s only when he’s halfway to the hospital that he realises he’d forgotten to kiss Jim goodbye. He’s forgotten kisses before. They both have. But before he’d always assumed he’d get a chance for another one. 

When he gets back after a long day in the lab, his room seems too empty. Leonard’s fingers itch to pick up his communicator and call Jim. Instead, he instructs them to pour a decent shot of bourbon, which is enough to make the bed seem a bit less lonely when he climbs into it. 

Leonard has always found it easy to slip into a routine. This is no different. He gets up alone in the morning, spends his day in the labs or at the hospital on a shift, then comes home late. Occasionally there are messages awaiting him from Jim. There are flirty messages asking him to join them and containing perhaps too much detail to put in communications that aren’t completely secure. There are casual messages asking if he’s free for a meal, or to watch a holo, or to grab a drink. And there are concerned messages when Leonard doesn’t reply quickly enough for Jim’s liking. Leonard sends back short messages with just enough grouchiness and sarcasm that Jim won’t worry, and throws himself back into his work. 

The dedication pays off, and they have a vaccine for the outbreak within a few days. M’Benga is pleased, if a little surprised that it happened so quickly, but if he wonders why Leonard has spent every waking moment in the lab, he doesn’t ask. Leonard accepts a drink of celebration with the rest of the research team and it makes him miss his crew. He’s never been much of a socialiser, but since the beginning it’s been easy to spend time with the senior crew and his medical team, both on and off duty. He thinks about messaging everyone, asking them to join the celebration, but he can’t do that without Jim and Spock finding out and he doesn’t think he’s quite ready to see them yet. So he just accepts the claps on his back and warm smiles from the research team when he says goodbye and heads back to his room. 

Leonard is so preoccupied with the idea of how welcoming a shower and a warm bed will be that the door is sliding shut behind him before he realises he’s not alone. 

He stops short.

Spock is on the couch at one end of the room, completely naked. Jim is on top of him, just as naked. Leonard’s heart clenches with desire. He’s missed them both, no matter how much he’s told himself otherwise. 

“Oh, hey there Bones,” Jim says, perfectly casual, as if they’re having a meeting in his ready room or discussing something inconsequential on the bridge, rather than him being buried deep inside Spock’s ass. 

He smirks and it pulls a surprised laugh from Leonard’s mouth. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest, mostly to keep himself from moving forward and reaching out.  

“We wished to congratulate you on the successful completion of your vaccine research,” Spock says. Leonard admires how normal and even his voice sounds. He’s never been able to keep that much composure with Jim’s cock inside him, stretching him open. 

“I’m sure the people of Valaxus VI will be very pleased to know they’re no longer at risk of psoriasis,” Jim adds, giving Leonard a look that is both bewildered and amused. 

“Medicine isn’t all about saving lives, you know,” Leonard says defensively and Jim tips his head to the side and shrugs. 

“We thought we’d reward you for all of your hard work,” he says. He cants his hips slightly and Spock grunts. It makes Leonard realise just how deep inside Jim’s been buried this whole time, waiting for him, waiting for a signal to move. 

Spock’s eyes close and he pushes back against Jim. Leonard swallows hard. He moves forward without meaning to, and Jim’s smile widens as he sees Leonard approach. 

“Come and join us,” he growls. It’s half begging and half an order, and as a whole difficult to resist. 

Leonard watches the way Jim’s hands clutch at Spock’s hips. Possessive. Protective. As if they belong there. He can’t deny that Jim and Spock were supposed to be this way together. He thinks of some of the cryptic things Ambassador Spock had said, that had made him wonder about the relationship between Jim and Spock in that other reality they knew so little about. There’s something great between them, something that should be explored further. 

Leonard doesn’t want to get in the way of that. As much as he loves Jim. As much as he feels something complicated and painful for Spock. He’d made peace a long time ago that he’d never be one to get a happy ending. It’s why it had been so easy to resign himself to never getting to hear Jim say the words he desperately wants to hear. For the past seven years, this whatever it is with Jim is something he’s been grateful for. He’d come to terms with the fact Jim would never feel quite the same, that he was a distraction and a safe place for Jim. That Spock will take that role now hurts, but Leonard suspects that his role in the story of Jim’s life is perhaps as the one who brings Jim and Spock together. Nothing more. 

And he’s done that. Anything more is too much and too unfair – for them, and for himself. 

“I can’t do this,” he says so quietly he doesn’t think anyone will hear. But Jim and Spock stop moving. 

Spock’s eyes open and regard him silently. Jim is frowning, confused. 

“Are you too tired?” Jim asks. “We can take a raincheck and–”

Leonard shakes his head, cutting Jim off. “No. I can’t do  _ this _ .” He waves his hand between himself and them. “I thought this could work, but I was wrong. It would just be disastrous to even try. I’m happy for you both. I really am. I want you both to be happy. But I can’t do this.”

Neither of them say anything. And their silence gives Leonard enough strength to walk out. 

He has no idea where he should go. Outside his quarters Leonard pauses and thinks about how easy it would be to turn around and go back, to admit that he’s scared, but that he wants to try. But he’s already admitted to himself that he’s not a brave man.

Instead he walks all the way back to the hospital, to the temporary office he’s been assigned. He sits up all night, reading over patient notes, waiting for one of them to find him. He doesn’t know if he wants them to come after him or not, but he waits anyway.

By morning, neither of them have shown up, and so he trades shifts and goes back to his quarters. They’re long gone, the room feeling empty without their presence. He can’t look at the couch and instead he sinks into bed and sleeps as long as he can, thankfully without dreaming. 

Jim shows up late in the afternoon. Leonard has been lying in bed since lunchtime, staring at the ceiling and thinking about nothing in particular. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Jim asks without any preamble. This is Jim angry, walking the fine line between reigning in his emotions and tipping over the edge into his fury. It’s something Leonard doesn’t like to see, especially not when he’s on the receiving end. Jim sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, guarded. 

Leonard pushes himself up on his elbows. He aches to reach out to Jim, to pull him close and kiss him, to press his fingers across his forehead to smooth out the frown. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leonard risks saying, and earns himself an eye roll. It’s a better reaction than he’d expected.  

“I thought this is what you wanted,” Jim hisses. He sounds more betrayed than Leonard’s heard in a long time. 

“It was. But it isn’t anymore.”

“You seem pretty sure about that,” Jim says, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“I am,” Leonard tells him, even though he’s not sure if it’s true. He sighs. “We had a good run of it, Jim. But we both knew it wasn’t going to last.”

“We did, huh?” Jim says. The anger has seeped from his words, but his lips are drawn into a thin unhappy line. 

“And we both knew that Spock wanted you. And that you wanted him. Now you have each other.”

Jim stares at him. “Spock wanted me,” he echoes. “Is that what you think?”

“Ain’t it the truth?” Leonard asks, sitting up fully in the bed. “There’s been something between you since we stepped foot on the Enterprise for the first time. I don’t begrudge it, Jim. I want you to be happy more than anything.” His voice breaks on the last word. “I...I loved you, Jim. For such a long time. I want happiness for you.”

Jim stares at him wordlessly, and Leonard aches that this should be the moment he tells Jim how he’s felt, when there’s no chance of hearing the words returned. 

“I want the same for you, Bones,” Jim says. “That’s why I don’t understand.”

“Go and be happy with Spock,” Leonard says. He feels tired, too exhausted to continue the conversation. If he doesn’t end it, he knows he’s likely to chicken out, to give in and reach for Jim and kiss him and tell him he’s sorry and that it’s not true and he still wants him desperately. 

But Jim deserves better than that. And so the easiest thing to do is pull the covers up over himself, turning his body away from Jim until he feels the mattress lift from the absence of Jim’s weight. 

He listens to Jim’s footsteps leave, and eventually he goes back to sleep and tries not to dream about the hurt look in Jim’s eyes. 

~~~ 

It’s late when the door chimes again. Leonard is sitting on an uncomfortable chair reading his PADD, wishing he could bring himself to sit on the couch. He’s in no mood to talk to anyone, but he sets the PADD aside and waits for Jim to key in his override. 

After the fourth chime, he realises his visitor isn’t Jim at all and gets up to open the door. 

It’s Spock, which surprises him more than it should. He hadn’t expected Spock to want or need to talk to him. Leonard understands why Jim might be surprised and even hurt, considering the years they’ve spent together. But to Spock he’s nothing more than a colleague and acquaintance, and to lose Leonard’s participation should be no great loss at all. 

“I do not wish to disturb you,” Spock says, hands behind his back. 

“I was just catching up on some reading,” Leonard replies and steps aside to let him in. He watches as Spock moves to the couch, hesitating for just a moment before sitting down.

“I spoke with the Captain today,” Spock says, not bothering with niceties. Leonard has never told Spock this, but it’s something he’s always appreciated. There’s a time and a place for waffle and preamble, and most people seem to always get it wrong. It’s always been easy with Spock, knowing that they’ll get straight to the point, even when Leonard has wanted to dance around an issue.

“Oh?”

Spock inclines his head. “Your conversation earlier today was weighing heavy on his mind. He is confused. And I must confess I am also puzzled. It was my understanding that you had decided together to bring me to your bed, and were in agreement regarding this.”

“We were,” Leonard says with a shrug. “Don’t you know it’s a lady’s prerogative to change her mind?”

Spock’s brows draw together, and Leonard waves his response away. “I just mean, I thought I wanted this. And I don’t. And it made me realise that there’s a way for everyone to be happy.”

“I do not believe you are happy, Leonard,” Spock says. “And I think that perhaps you do not believe it either.”

“But Jim is happy,” Leonard says. “And that’s what matters.”

Spock studies Leonard carefully. “Curious,” he says. 

They sit in silence for a long moment, and Leonard refuses to squirm under the weight of Spock’s gaze. He stares back steadily, telling himself over and over that he believes his own words.

“I had not been aware of the duration of your relationship prior to our first night together. It was surprising, to kiss Jim and to taste all of the years of your relationship. It was much more serious than I expected, and I was apprehensive to step into the middle.”

“Jim and I have been friends for a long time,” Leonard says. “We’ll be friends for an even longer time to come.”

“Jim will be reassured to hear that. I could sense the breadth of his feelings for you when we touched. You were there, in every thought that passed through his mind, as he was in your thoughts when you touched me. I could feel your desire for me when you touched my ear and my neck and my jaw, and the desire to see Jim and I together. But there was a sadness too that I did not understand at the time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leonard says. He doesn’t want to hear what Spock had seen when they’d touched briefly. And he really doesn’t want to hear about Jim’s thoughts, when he knows that Jim will never love him back. Not the way that he already loves Spock. He knows it from the way Jim looks at Spock, from the way he acts with him. And now, even if Spock isn’t someone Jim can bring himself to say the words to, at least Spock will be able to read it in his mind. 

It makes Leonard envy Spock, and something must show painfully on his face. 

Spock stands quickly, and moves into Leonard’s space. Before Leonard can do anything, he catches Leonard’s wrist in his fingers. The touch makes Leonard’s skin hum with desire that shoots straight to his cock. He licks his lips and meets Spock’s eyes. 

Spock’s eyes are wide and almost hungry, and it takes Leonard a moment to realise that Spock is feeling everything he’s feeling. He doesn’t want Spock, or anyone, to have access to the turmoil of thoughts and emotions that circle in his brain. There’s too much there for him to be ashamed of.

Anger and embarrassment wash over Leonard and he snaps his wrist away, pushing hard on Spock’s unyielding chest. “Get your Vulcan hands off me!” he yells, and Spock takes a step back. 

“Leonard,” Spock says, voice heavy with the most emotion Leonard’s ever heard him utter. 

“Don’t pity me.” Leonard’s voice cracks. “I don’t need that. I don’t need this. I was perfectly fine before Jim, and before you came into the picture too. Nothing is going to change, except that I’ve removed myself from the equation.”

“And as a scientist, you are surely aware that removing variables from equations tends to make them difficult to solve,” Spock says. He hesitates for a moment then steps back, giving Leonard space. 

Then he walks to the door, and Leonard waits for him to say something further. Instead he nods slightly in Leonard’s direction, and is gone. 

~~~ 

Leonard avoids Jim and Spock, and the rest of the crew for that matter, for several weeks, until they’re all called together for a meeting about the new ship. 

They file into the room to talk to admirals whose names Leonard doesn’t bother trying to remember. As always, he sits to Jim’s left, with Spock on the right. It’s disturbingly easy to act like nothing has changed, to the point where he rolls his eyes and disagrees with Jim about something when the admirals are talking amongst themselves, and he trades snappy but lighthearted insults with Spock. He’s grateful that Spock plays along, and he can see that Jim is trying, but when everyone’s attention is focused elsewhere he shoots Leonard confused looks. 

When the debriefing is over and the senior crew cluster outside, engaged in a good natured argument over which bar to visit, Jim snags Leonard by the elbow and draws him aside. 

“Bones,” he says, and Leonard’s answering smile is genuine. It’s so different to the smiles he’s been handing out recently, fake enough that it makes his cheeks tight and sore. But everything else aside, including his heart that alternates between aching pain and empty nothingness, he’s missed seeing Jim and being this close to him. He’s missed hearing the ridiculous nickname that only Jim uses, falling from Jim’s lips. 

“Jim,” Leonard says, trying to sound professional and not too eager. “How have you been?”

“How have I been?” Jim asks in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, Bones? I don’t see you for weeks after you basically break up with me, and you ask how I’ve been?”

“We didn’t break up,” Leonard says, and Jim looks even more baffled until Leonard continues. “We weren’t ever really together, were we? It was just a bit of fun, a distraction.”

“Is that what you’d call it?” Jim demands. His voice is low to prevent anyone overhearing, but there’s enough fury and heat in it that it hits Leonard like a suckerpunch to the stomach. “Because I think we’ve spent seven years in a relationship that’s gone a lot further than just friendship. We’ve been there for each other through the successes and the failures... I’ve had my tongue in your ass, for Christ’s sake, and you want to pretend that there was nothing between us? That there still isn’t?”

Leonard feels his cheeks burn, and he tries not to think about all of the things he’s done with Jim – both in bed and out of it, when being together was enough. 

“Jim,” he says, reaching for him. “I’m sorry. I–”

“Well, laddie,” Scotty interrupts, throwing his arm around Leonard’s shoulder. “We’ve decided on the perfect bar. I was there the other day and they have some Saurian brandy that’s been aged longer than you’ve been alive…”

He leads Leonard away, and Leonard casts a look back over his shoulder. Jim is staring at the floor, until Uhura says something to him, and then his perfect captain’s mask is in place, as if nothing happened. 

At the bar, Leonard accepts the brandy Scotty orders. He decides then and there to get shitfaced drunk, to drown his sorrows and confused feelings in as much alcohol as he can muster. It’s something he hasn’t felt the need to do in years, and he’s frankly impressed with himself that he’s lasted this long without doing it. He wants to drink enough to forget the look on Jim’s face. The pain and confusion and devastation, things that are as far as possible from the happiness he’d wanted for Jim. 

He’s only two glasses in when Spock gets up to leave, having been present for the required amount of time, as always. Leonard waits for Jim to follow, but he stays in the booth talking to Sulu and Uhura, laughing at their jokes and telling some in return. He doesn’t even look up as Spock says his goodbyes, and it makes Leonard’s insides twist. 

He needs to know that Jim will be happy. That Spock will look after him. That Jim will look after Spock and they’ll be happy enough to make up for the sadness that’s being pumped through Leonard’s veins with every painful beat of his heart. 

Leonard trusts Spock with his life, but he doesn’t know yet if he trusts him with Jim’s heart. And whatever else he’s been to Jim, he’s his friend. His best friend. Leonard needs to look out for him. So he knows he has to talk to Spock and make sure that Jim’s heart is going to be in good hands. And, if he’s being honest with himself, he wants to be near to Spock again, even if just for a moment. 

Before he can change his mind, he mutters a goodbye to Scotty, who looks surprised and displeased until he realises he can finish Leonard’s untouched third drink. Leonard hurries out of the bar and in the direction he knows Spock has gone – towards the building that houses their quarters. 

He catches up with Spock halfway there, and he wonders if Spock knew he was following and if he slowed his gait to allow Leonard to catch up. It’s easier than it should have been.

“I need to know he’ll be happy,” Leonard blurts out when he reaches Spock’s side. “I need to know you’ll be happy too.”

Spock stops walking and stands to look at him. The pavement where they’re walking, along the edge of one of the bodies of water that split the city, is mostly deserted despite it being only early evening. 

“I cannot guarantee that,” Spock says, and Leonard’s hands curl into fists. 

“Damnit, Spock!” he snaps. “I don’t need your calculated pessimism about how we have 76% chance of dying in space in the next two years. I just need to know that you’ll look after him. That the two of you will make it work. That you’ll grow old together and live to be old men and-”

“I am afraid that I cannot say that,” Spock interrupts. “As we have already failed to ‘make it work’.”

Leonard goes still and frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

“Jim and I have not furthered our relationship since the evening in your quarters. We both agreed that we did not feel enough of a connection to continue on our own.”

The alcohol in Leonard’s blood is warm, but he feels cold suddenly. “I don’t understand. You and Jim...I thought that you were supposed to be together. That Ambassador Spock and the...the other Jim, in his universe, that they were together, and that you were meant to be together here too.”

“For a scientist,” Spock says, “you often make leaps of logic that prove to be false and, ultimately, illogical.” The look he gives Leonard is soft though, without any admonishment in his words. “I had talked at length with Ambassador Spock of such things. It was refreshing to feel no need to hide any thoughts from another. We discussed my feelings for Jim. And for you.”

“That...that had to have been years ago.” Leonard remembers hearing about the Ambassador’s death, and the worry he’d felt for Spock. He’d wanted to go to him and check he was alright, but off the ship he hadn’t been Spock’s doctor, and barely his friend, so he’d refrained. It makes his heart ache to think that they’re even less than that now, despite and because of everything. He knows from talking to Jim that it had been some time since Spock had talked to his alternate self and he wonders if that had made it harder or easier to hear of his passing.

Spock nods. “I was aware of being drawn to you both almost immediately upon our assignment with Jim as Captain of the Enterprise. At the time I did not suspect that the two of you were already engaged in a monogamous relationship. I mentioned the attraction to the Ambassador, and although he often refused to supply me with information about his past, he did express regret that he never told his Jim or his Leonard how he felt. And that neither Jim nor Leonard from his timeline ever admitted their feelings to each other, to the best of his knowledge. He encouraged me to avoid the mistakes he had made. But I was cowardly and waited, and once I learned that you and Jim were together, it seemed crass to push myself on you both.”

“And then we propositioned you,” Leonard says. 

“And then you propositioned me,” Spock agrees. “I thought perhaps things would work out as they should. But I now see I should have trodden more carefully. I forget, even after all this time, how much humans are driven by their emotions. I did not plan adequately for your lack of belief in yourself, and how important you are to Jim...and to me.”

Leonard makes a dismissive noise and Spock’s gaze sharpens. 

“Leonard,” Spock says, and Leonard shivers. “Am I right in assuming that you suggested inviting me to the bed you and Jim share after witnessing him watching me?”

Leonard swallows. He thinks of all of the times he’s observed Jim looking at Spock with undisguised hunger, and he nods. 

“And in all that time, did you not notice where my gaze rested?”

“On Jim,” Leonard says. It’s barely more than a whisper. Spock reaches out and slides his thumb along Leonard’s cheek.

“Sometimes,” Spock admits. “But mostly, it was you.”

Leonard opens his mouth to protest, but Spock’s thumb slides over his lips, silencing him. 

“Jim had mentioned that you often fail to see your own worth. As my own dealings with you were mostly professional – where you appear completely self assured even when faced with utmost danger, once one learns to ignore the bluster that is merely distraction – I was not aware of the extent of this. I had assumed that you were aware of how much you fascinate me. My attraction to you is illogical.”

Leonard grimaces, and Spock’s thumb falls away from his mouth. 

“You misunderstand, Leonard,” Spock says, “again.” He huffs out something that might be a chuckle, and Leonard instantly thinks about the only time he’s heard Spock laugh. He’d been terrified at the sound, and his reaction is much the same, but what he fears now is what Spock might say. 

“It is illogical, because we are so different. But perhaps that is the point. I didn’t fully appreciate how well differences could complement each other until the three of us were together for that brief moment. To me, it made sense instantly. But in hindsight, I did not share that with you, nor make you aware of your importance.”

Leonard doesn’t know what to say, and Spock seems relieved and presses on.

“I was also not aware of how quick Jim is to push others away to avoid hurt. If I had been stronger, if I had resisted, perhaps we would not be in this state.”

Leonard starts to reach for Spock, and then stops himself. Spock’s gaze rests on Leonard’s hand, halfway across the space between them. 

“It’s not your fault,” Leonard says. “I’m just not sure I fully understand why you and Jim didn’t…”

“I said we lacked a connection,” Spock says. “And I meant it. The connection, the thing that linked us together, was you. Your presence. Without you, it was not enough.”

Leonard swallows, shivering. He wraps his arms around himself, even though the temperature is as ambient as ever. “You didn’t want just Jim,” he says, more to himself than to Spock. “You wanted me, too.” It’s something he hadn’t considered, in all of his musings and planning, before he even broached the subject with Jim. That Spock would want him and Jim equally.

“When you both came to me, I longed to hold you both, to touch you both,” Spock says. “I regret not reaching for you too, for not showing you in that moment how I felt.”

He moves close to Leonard, close enough that Leonard can smell the sharp scent of him. His hand brushes Leonard’s cheek, and then he kisses him. 

It takes Leonard a moment to kiss back. His mind is whirling with the revelation that he hadn’t been an additional person to put up with, as the only route to reach Jim. He’d been desired and wanted and if he’d only known, or suspected...perhaps things would be different. 

Perhaps he would have been able to kiss Spock like this before. And so he kisses back. It’s more urgent than their first kiss, that he’d stolen before running away from the problem. Spock’s body presses against his, and it’s stronger than Leonard had imagined. He presses his hand against Spock’s chest, runs it down to the right side of his ribcage and feels the heart beating there. It’s faster than his, and Leonard knows that it’s natural, that Vulcan’s have a naturally higher pulse rate, but he lets himself believe that he’s helped speed it up all the same. 

Lost in the kiss, it takes Leonard longer than it should to remember that they’re out in the open. That anyone could see – including members of Starfleet and their own crew. And his mouth tastes of alcohol. It’s a disappointment, when what he wants to taste is Spock. 

“We can’t,” he says, breaking the kiss. “Not here.”

“Then in my quarters,” Spock says. “We can begin to repair what has been lost.”

“Jim is so angry with me,” Leonard says, screwing his eyes closed, picturing how Jim had looked at him earlier that day. “I don’t know if he’d be willing to forgive.”

“One step at a time,” Spock says. “I am going to retire to my quarters now. If you wish to talk further...or perhaps not talk at all and instead explore what we should have explored all those weeks ago, I invite you to join me.”

When he steps away, Leonard instantly misses the warmth of his body. He watches as Spock strides away and he wants to follow immediately, but first he detours to his medical office. In there he loads a hypospray with something that will counteract the alcohol in his bloodstream, and rinses his mouth to rid it of the taste of brandy. He wants to be sober, to meet whatever will happen in complete control of his body and mind. 

More than half an hour has passed by the time he reaches Spock’s quarters. He doesn’t know what to expect and there are butterflies violently warring deep in his belly. 

He presses the door chime and it opens almost immediately, as if Spock were standing just inside, waiting for him. 

“You came,” Spock says, and although his face his carefully guarded, there’s joy in his voice.

“I did,” Leonard says.

Neither of them speak for a long moment. And Leonard wishes Jim were there, to make a terrible joke like, “Not yet, but you will,” or something equally bad just to lighten the mood. He wonders if this is what Spock had meant when he said there was something lacking when he was with Jim, a missing piece that would make everything easier and more complete.

“Please, sit,” Spock gestures to his couch, identical to the one in Leonard’s quarters that he’s ignored pointedly for so long. 

Leonard does as instructed, and Spock sits beside him. 

“You often make remarks that suggest I do not feel emotion,” Spock says, and Leonard doesn’t bother protesting because it’s true. “However, although I feel, I choose not to let the emotions rise to the surface. This allows me to focus on what is logical. But the emotions are still there.”

He holds his hand out to Leonard, and after the briefest hesitation, Leonard takes it. 

“Let me show you,” Spock says, and as his fingers wrap around Leonard’s, a wave of something foreign crashes through Leonard’s body. 

It’s confusing. There are so many emotions, all rolled together. There is regret, deep and  intertwined with sadness and failure. But underlying it all is something as warm and bright as the sun, something that Leonard recognises, because it’s the same thing he feels for Jim, that he suspects he must also feel for Spock. Love. And the bright feeling is shining in his direction.

“Oh, Spock,” Leonard murmurs, when Spock’s hand lifts away. “I–”

“I cannot show you more without a mindmeld,” Spock says. “Human’s are usually psi-null and unable to truly pick up on even projected thoughts and feelings.”

Leonard bristles automatically. “Well if Vulcan’s didn’t keep their emotions bottled up then we wouldn’t need to–” he cuts himself off. “Sorry, habit.”

Spock looks amused. “Perhaps this whole situation would have been resolved if  _ you _ had not bottled up your emotions, Leonard. If you had told Jim how you truly felt about him long ago. If you had been honest in your concerns about the three of us.”

Leonard waves his hand at Spock. “Yeah, yeah, I’m an idiot,” he says. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Spock’s hands clasp Leonard’s again. “I will tell you that I find you remarkable. I had believed so long that our bickering was merely you tolerating me for Jim’s sake, but I suspect now that it is much more. For my part, I feel respect and love for you. And I desire you.”

Leonard surges forward and kisses Spock before he thinks about what he’s doing. Spock’s mouth opens to welcome him, letting Leonard’s tongue slip inside. He explores Spock’s mouth, as Spock’s hands range across Leonard’s body, and he leans into the touch, wanting more. Spocks hands move to his hips, grasping his shirt, and they break the kiss long enough to remove it. 

Spock dips his head to kiss along Leonard’s bare collarbone, pushing him back until he’s lying on the couch, looking down at the top of Spock’s dark head. He buries his fingers in the silky hair, arching himself into Spock’s touch as Spock kisses lower, settling his mouth around a nipple. Spock’s tongue rasps against the erect tissue, and Leonard’s eyes fall shut at the sensation. He remembers thinking of this exact thing weeks ago, when he’d run his fingers over Spock’s ear. He wonders if Spock had picked up on those thoughts, and was using them against him now. He tries to picture what it would feel like on his cock, and Spock immediately starts to lick his way lower.  

“Spock,” Leonard gasps as Spock kisses down the planes of his belly, pulling away so he can undo Leonard’s pants and ease them down. 

“Talk to me,” Spock says. “Tell me how you feel.”

“Don’t you already know?” Leonard asks, arching up against the touch. “Can’t you feel it when you touch me?”

Spock lifts his head. “I can feel, but I prefer to hear you say the words and feel the honesty in them.”

Leonard rubs his fingers along Spock’s ear again, and watches Spock’s eyes flutter shut. 

“Overwhelmed,” Leonard says. “I feel overwhelmed.”

Spock’s eyes open and he presses a kiss to Leonard’s lips, and then shifts to mouth against the shaft of his cock. Leonard had been half-hard before, but now he’s fully erect and leaking from the tip. Spock’s lips on him are almost too hot to bear, and when he takes Leonard into his mouth, further and further, Leonard thinks he might come undone then and there. 

He loses the power to speak, lost in the heat and the suction and the scrape of Spock’s tongue against him. Spock’s fingers wrap around him, covering what length isn’t inside of Spock’s mouth, and it feels safe and right. 

When he feels himself drawing closer and closer, his hands clench in Spock’s hair and he has to stop himself from forcing Spock further onto his cock, or from snapping his hips forward to bury deeper in Spock’s mouth. 

Then Spock pulls away, looking up along the length of Leonard’s body. “I must tell you,” he says, watching the rise and fall of Leonard’s chest as he struggles to calm his breathing. “I feel a growing affection between us. I must know if you feel the same.”

“Fuck, Spock,” Leonard growls. “You damn well know I feel it too.”

“Do you feel that something is missing?” 

Leonard closes his eyes, trying to focus on the feel of Spock’s clever fingers still wrapped around him, moving minutely, keeping him right on the edge but not letting him tip over. “You know there is.”

“Jim,” Spock says, and Leonard nods, opening his eyes and finding Spock staring at him. As he watches, Spock licks his lips, as if he’s nervous. It’s an emotion Leonard hadn’t thought Spock possessed. “Tell me what you’ve been unable to tell Jim. Tell me what I can feel when I touch you, but you don’t say out loud.”

He lowers his lips back to Leonard’s cock, and there’s some safety in the furnace of Spock’s mouth. It makes him feel brave.

“I love him,” Leonard breathes out, feeling something low in him tighten more and more, almost ready to snap. “I’ve loved him for so long. I should have told him.”

“You should have.”

Leonard’s head snaps around quickly enough that he knows he’ll have sore muscles in the morning. Jim is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and a carefully blank expression on his face. 

“Jim,” Leonard says, fingers twisting hard in Spock’s hair. Spock’s tongue presses just under the head of his cock, and it sends darts of pleasure through him. 

His hand reaches automatically to Jim, and Jim crosses the room quickly, taking Leonard’s hand just as Spock’s tongue swirls just so, and the tightness inside him snaps and he comes, shuddering under Spock’s mouth and hands. 

Jim leans in and kisses him through it, and the sensation is even more overwhelming than it had been before. Jim sink to his knees beside the couch, and Leonard breaks the kiss when he feels Spock pull away. 

“Sorry for the lack of warning,” he says to Spock, because he means it, and it’s easier than looking at Jim even though he desperately wants to.

“I was aware,” Spock says, rubbing his thumb against the corner of his mouth. His eyes flit between Leonard and Jim, before coming to rest on Jim’s lips. They’re reddened from the pressure of the kiss, and without saying a word Jim leans in and kisses Spock, just as hard. 

A thrill runs through Leonard as he realises Jim must taste him on Spock’s tongue. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and Jim pulls away from Spock to look at him. 

“You should be,” he says. “You broke my fucking heart, you know. Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Leonard wishes he had an answer, but he doesn’t. 

“You loved me,” Jim says. “That’s what you said before. Past tense. As if it was too late.”

“It’s not,” Leonard reaches for him. He slides his hand around the back of Jim’s neck and stares at him. “I meant that I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember what it’s like not to. And I thought that if you couldn’t love me, then you’d be happier with just Spock.”

It feels good to be honest, even if it does make Jim frown.

“You’re an idiot,” Jim says. “And an asshole.”

“Not going to argue with you,” Leonard says, unable to resist a smile. 

Jim sighs and exchanges a look with Spock. 

“I love you too, by the way,” Jim says fiercely. “I love both of you. But this won’t work if we’re not honest with each other.”

Leonard looks at Spock. “It’s worrying when Jim is the voice of reason.” 

“Indeed,” Spock agrees, and Jim sits back on his heels. 

“This isn’t the time for you two to gang up on me,” he says. “I’m serious. I want you both. You want me, and you want each other. But it won’t work if we can’t be truthful.”

Leonard swallows hard and nods. “I want it to work,” he says. “The past few weeks have been–”

“In the past,” Spock interrupts. “I see no logical reason to replay past events, other than to learn from our mistakes.”

“Agreed,” Jim says. “Tomorrow, we need to set some ground rules. Instead of rushing into things, we need to figure out how this will work between us. Especially once we’re back on the ship.”

Leonard and Spock nod in agreement. “Tomorrow?” Leonard queries. 

Jim gives him a slow smirk, and pulls his shirt over his head. “I think we can all agree that what we all want right now, is for the three of us to finally fuck.”

“While I find your terminology quite vulgar,” Spock says, “I must agree with the sentiment. I feel we have all been patient enough.”

They both look at Leonard expectantly. He waits for the feeling of panic to rush through him, for the desire to run away to hit him. When it doesn’t, he smiles. 

“No arguments here,” he says, and reaches for Spock’s shirt to remove it. 

“I’m still pissed,” Jim tells him, as he reaches to help. 

“I know,” Leonard says. “And I’ll make it up to you.”

Jim’s hands slide down Spock’s stomach. He gives Leonard an easy smile, the kind that Leonard has missed in the time they’ve spent apart. The type of smile that Leonard had thought belonged only to him. 

When Jim turns the smile on Spock, who is looking at them with dark, patient eyes, Leonard waits for the jab of jealousy. But it’s barely there now. In fact, there’s something else rushing through him in its place. He tries to place the emotion as he moves to kneel beside Jim. Spock is standing, letting Jim remove what’s left of his clothing, and Leonard watches Jim’s hands move over Spock’s pale skin. 

Spock’s hands reach out, one cupping Jim’s cheek, the other tipping Leonard’s chin up. 

The crash of emotions Leonard had felt earlier wash over him gasp. He hears Jim gasp beside him and he reaches out blindly, grasping Jim’s hand in his own. 

The painful emotions from Spock that Leonard had felt before are muted now. The regret is still there, but fainter. And the bright sensation of love is pulsing brighter than before. But there’s something else too, something warm and engulfing, like the heat he’d felt in Spock’s mouth, and just as safe. 

Jim and Leonard exchange a look, and move in together to lick along the length of Spock’s cock. The guttural sound they pull from Spock’s throat makes something wonderful twist inside of Leonard, and he realises what the emotion is. The one he’s been trying to figure out, the one he hadn’t fully recognised. 

Happiness. 


End file.
